Interview with R&B Session Bassist Jerry Jemmott

Brian F. Wright: I wanted to start by talking about your first recording session with Aretha Franklin back in April 1968. Did you remember what it felt like walking into that session?  

Jerry Jemmott: You know, to tell you the truth, it was just another day of work. It was just another session to me.

BW: Had Jerry Wexler told you in advance that it was going to be an Aretha Franklin Session?

JJ: Oh yeah. He told me. He said I might play, I might not.

BW: Why did he call you in that day?

JJ: He gave me no explanation, but he knew that I had a knack for making music come alive. That’s basically been my whole career. He just had a hunch, I guess.

BW: Had you met Aretha before?

JJ: I had recorded with her sister Erma [on “Piece of My Heart”] before then, but I hadn’t met Aretha. I knew her music though. I used to hear on the jazz radio stations. I didn’t know her as a rhythm & blues artist until she made it. I knew her as a jazz singer.

BW: What do you remember about that session?

JJ: It was chaotic in a sense. They just couldn't get the feel on what was going on. I was surprised the band couldn’t hear what I was hearing. That kind of flipped me out. I felt bad for her that they couldn’t hear what was needed to propel the music. I was in pain, because from the downbeat I knew exactly what it was supposed to be at 10am and I had to sit there suffering as they took shots at it. But it wasn’t happening. It took five hours [to record “Think”], three hours of rehearsing, an hour lunch break, and then at the top of the of 2:00pm session, Jerry told me to go in there and see what I could do.

BW: When you got there, Tommy Cogbill was already playing bass. Was it strange to be the backup bass player?

JJ: I had never been on a session like that ever, where I was just observing. That was a totally new experience to me. But Tommy was my hero.

BW: You had heard Tommy playing on her records, you’d heard him playing on “Respect”…

JJ: “Respect,” yeah. But think about “Baby I Love You” and “Dr. Feelgood” and “Since You Been Gone.” He had a bunch of hits out there. I was wondering what the hell I was doing on that session until I heard they couldn’t get it. Then I thought, “Now I know why they called me!”

BW: Did you feel any tension or animosity from Tommy?

JJ: Tommy was beautiful, I mean he got up when he heard me playing and just grabbed a guitar. I didn’t know he played guitar. And he played this bebop/bluegrass line. And then, when the tune was over, I got up to leave and he said, “No man, sit down. Stay here.” And that was it. 

BW: Do you think knowing her prior hits influenced how you played that day?

JJ: No. It was just a new tune. Another day, another session. A new idea. For me every session has to be different, I never played the same thing twice. It was another session, but for somebody who I deeply loved. So that was like the icing on the cake.

BW: But that was the job, you showed up where you were needed and played.

JJ: Yeah, and saved the day [laughs]. Usually, when we’re have a trouble on a session and the first song isn’t going, we say scratch it. We’ll put it down and take care of it at the end of the session. Because time is money. You don’t want to waste time on a song. So to spend that amount of time [on “Think”], it must have been very important to her to get that song done.

BW: When I listen to some of those first recordings from Aretha Now, like “Think,” “I Say a Little Prayer,” or “You Send Me,” I’m always struck by how much your bass lines are really in conversation with Aretha’s vocals. Was that deliberate?

JJ: It’s something I've always done all my life. Any recording I've ever played on. I come from that school of music, where there’s interplay.

BW: Do you think that sort of melodic, call-and-response playing came out of your background as a jazz musician?

JJ: Oh yeah. It is demanded that you be interactive and be cognizant. You listen and support. That’s the game. I mean that’s it. That’s your life. The bass is a very profound instrument. You’re looking at the world from the bottom and you see everything. 

BW: On other songs from those sessions like “See Saw” or “I Can’t See Myself Leaving You” you are playing more rhythm-oriented R&B grooves. Did that different approach just happen organically? Were you consciously trying mix things up?

JJ: It’s just what comes out when I hear something. My first impression is usually the right one. I think about the title of the song. I try to tell the story of the song in my own way. And I’ve always focused on that. You listen. You listen and find things that you can support and be a part of and play with, without being in the way, which is also important. You can hear a lot of stuff, but you can’t play everything you hear. You have to edit on the fly: “Wait a minute, save that for the third chorus.”

BW: And on those Aretha sessions you can't be the star of that show, right? That's never going to work.

JJ: For me playing bass… People don’t understand, but when I play my bass parts, they're meant to be understated. It ain’t the star of the show, it’s always the support. But the engineers and the producers, they thought otherwise and they started pushing the bass up [in the mix]. And that really messed me up. That’s not where I'm coming from [laughs]. I’ve had to fight with this for so long. I had to fight with myself for a long time to get over it. Also, knowing I was going to be featured meant I had to tighten up my game. But eventually I was into it and saw that I was affecting other people's playing, so it made me realize I had a responsibility.

BW: Speaking about affecting other’s playing, for those Aretha sessions, did you feel like what the musicians played helped coax those performances out of her?

JJ: She listened, and she would accept help when it was needed and when it was offered. She wasn’t close minded. She never was. I only worked with her for maybe five sessions out of her entire career. But we all collaborated when we go into the studio. We have a limited amount of time, we have a job to get done, and we’re making something that’s going to live forever. That's the intention anyway [laughs]. It doesn’t always work out that way. But it's a collaborative effort and everybody's on their best behavior, so there's no nonsense going on. We had to take care of business. And I'm sure that was the case on all her sessions. She was open to collaboration.

BW: Being a session musician, that's the gig. You’re going in every day hoping to capture some magic. At the time, did it feel like it was a lot of pressure?

JJ: Every day [laughs]. It wasn’t easy for me.

BW: Do you think the magic comes from the pressure?

JJ: Creativity usually comes from a lack of something, and then pressure makes diamonds. You know the bass gave me a life. When you hear me playing, I was a man looking for a lifesaver, which is very interesting to people. It’s very exciting. Very dramatic. Playing gave me a chance to do something other than be me.

BW: Is that part of the appeal of doing session work, that you can be a different person, try out different personas?

JJ: That's one thing I learned to do. Like some days I try to play as few notes as possible, others I play as many as possible. You use little tricks to make it interesting. If I was playing country music, I would imagine myself wearing coveralls with a straw in my mouth and a hat on. You know, I was an actor. You have to act the part out. You have to live the title of the song, visually, mentally, musically. So thinking about those coveralls made me play really simple. These are things you learn to do because you only got one shot.

BB: With that first Aretha album, Aretha Now, and then on the next one, Soul ’69, you're actually credited by name on the back of the albums. Was that rare for you?

JJ: That was something new. I’d been playing in the industry since ’65 and I was playing with [session] musicians who had been in there decades before me, and that was never done. So this was something they had just started doing. I just happened to come in at the right time, where we were being acknowledged. On jazz recordings, you'd see more acknowledgements, of course, but on popular mainstream records that wasn't the case.

BW: Did it mean something to you at the time?

JJ: Oh, it was great. I mean just to hear music you recorded on the radio was great. And to have your name on the record too! I mean that’s like wow! Because it hadn't been done before. So it was really cool.

BW: Did those Aretha sessions have a big impact on your career as a session bassist? Were you suddenly getting a lot more calls after that?

JJ: I got a lot more calls after that. I mean that was the beginning of a whole slew of work. That was a big deal. Like I said, I was already getting a lot of sessions at that point, but that made it even better basically. She became a part of my whole legacy.

BW: After that success with Aretha, Wexler starts bringing you down to Muscle Shoals to record. Do you remember how many sessions you played on down there?

JJ: With Duane [Allman], I recorded in Muscle Shoals with Wilson Pickett. We did Arthur Conley. We did Clarence Carter. Otis Rush. Maybe somebody else. I forget.

BW: Was it strange for you going down to the Shoals, leaving the New York scene to go to rural Alabama to record.

JJ: It was strange, in a sense. But you follow the music. So, it was just another gig. Hopping on a plane this time and, you know, going to a place that’s known for a lot of discrimination. But we were insulated. In the recording industry, everything is insulated. Like I said, nobody wants to mess around. You want to take care of business. It was a good experience, making music in that situation with musicians that I hadn't played with much before. It was interesting.

BW: Did you ever experience any racial tensions with the Muscle Shoals musicians?

JJ: Like I said, in the studio everybody's on their best behavior. You don't know what's in their mind. You don't know what's behind that smiling face. You can tell by their actions and how they do things, like with that movie they did [Muscle Shoals (2013)]. Because I ain’t in the movie. Tommy ain’t in the movie. It’s funny, sometimes you can smell something. But you deal with it, you do your thing, and you move ahead. 

BW: It’s a working relationship. You’re there, you don’t have a lot of time. The personal stuff doesn’t really factor in. That’s what you mean?

JJ: Exactly. You don’t want it to. You keep that out.

BW: Probably the most famous sessions you played on down there were for Wilson Pickett’s Hey Jude album. Can you talk a bit about what it was like recording with Duane?

JJ: We had worked together before, so we knew what to expect. We knew what the music called for. Really, when you follow the music, it’s not about who you’re working with. It’s what you’re playing and what you’re trying to accomplish. You’re following the music, you’re following the singer, you’re following the story, you’re making it happen.

BW: Yeah. It seems like today we often glorify session work and don’t really think about it as a 9-to-5 job. Like, I’ve heard you talk about how you still had to lug your own amp from studio to studio?

JJ:  Mmhmm. But it was a great opportunity. Think about how many great musicians never get recorded. I had a fever for doing it. I felt like it was something I had to do. I mean I know some guys who were living really good because they worked all the time. I didn't work all the time. I worked enough to be satisfied and I took the jobs I wanted to take, basically. When the phone rang, I answered it. 

BW: Was there a reason that you were drawn to session work instead of live work? Was there a reason that you the studio specifically appealed to you?

JJ: Richard Dubin, my childhood friend, used to hang out with George Duvivier, Richard Davis, Snooky Young, Ernie Royal, all the cats in the Basie and Ellington bands. He was a couple years older than me. We were in junior high orchestra together, that's what we met. But he had the gift of gab, and he would come back with these stories about these cats doing studio work. So I got the bug then. I said, “That’s what I want to do!”

BW: So you were young.

JJ: Yeah. I wasn’t even thinking about it as a job then. I just thought, “Oh, I like that.” I liked the idea of being a gunslinger. I was playing upright then. I was like 12-14 years old. Eventually I started playing electric bass and that was my way into the studio. I wouldn't have made it on upright. I mean I was good, I had a good sound, but I wasn't thinking about doing studio work with it. But when I switched to electric bass, I saw I had an opening because what I was hearing on the radio was not what the bass should playing. I knew the bass could be doing more. That was what drove me.

BW: A key part of this story is that you grew up in New York, where the studio scene was around. In the NY scene, were there a lot more upright players than electric at that time? Was that part of the reason why you were able to break in?

JJ: Everybody tried their hand at. Ron [Carter] played electric. Richard [Davis] played electric. I don’t think George [Duvivier] played electric. But most of the cats took a whack at it. It’s not that hard. You can get used to playing it. It’s what it is. It’s like having a double [being able to play more than one instrument on a session].

BW: So are you saying it’s not about the instrument, it’s about the musician? It’s not that you got an electric bass and it opened up this new world for you, you were already hearing it in your head?

JJ: No, I heard it as I played it. I liked the sound and then hearing what I was hearing on the radio, and not liking the content, I said, “Well, I can do something about that.” If I could find a sound [on electric bass] that was pleasing to me, then I knew could make the content better. So first I had to get a sound that I could live with. But I was determined to play it, because I didn't want to play in a band that played with their back to the audience like Miles [Davis]. I couldn’t get with that. That just turned me off. So that was my motivation to even pick up electric bass.

BW: So it's actually after you get the electric bass and you're playing in bands, then suddenly you realize there's something about your interaction with the instrument and what you're hearing that really opens the doors for you.

JJ: Yeah. I would say it was the first band I played electric bass in. And that's when it came to me that this is what I should be doing. I was having these ideas and [finally] able to manifest them. I don't know how it works, but it works. I know if I play a certain note, people will do a certain thing. I know how to work an audience. I could see people's reaction to live music, how they moved to it, how they responded to it.

BW: Do you think that experience from those years of playing to live audiences, helped you create in the studio, even when you weren’t playing for audience. Just knowing what kinds of parts get people moving?

JJ: Kind of. That kind of happens within the context of the music. Like I said, I use my imagination. The music tells you what's supposed to happen next. And listeners know, they can feel what's going to happen next and they're disappointed if it doesn't happen. But also, maybe it goes somewhere else and they like that too. It’s phenomenal how music works like that.

BW: So, I wanted to ask you about the next Aretha sessions from January ’69. That's where it was Duane and you. You told me that you weren’t credited for that session on This Girl’s In Love With You (1970) because of a dispute you had with Jerry Wexler. Can you tell me a little more about what happened?

JJ: I think we did that in January. We did six songs. Then he cancelled the next session [at the last minute]. I demanded payment for the [missed] sessions and after that he didn’t call me anymore. That’s what happened, basically. It didn’t matter to me, I had tons of work anyway. There was no lack of work.

BW: I guess what strikes me about it is how petty it feels…

JJ: I know! 

BW: Did he actually pay you after you demanded it?

JJ: Oh yeah.

BW: He paid you, but that was it.

JJ: That was it.

BW: After that Atlantic put out a compilation album in 1969 called Aretha’s Gold, and your pictured on the back cover.

JJ: I remember I’m on the back cover and I’m smoking a cigarette. I had just stopped smoking cigarettes two weeks prior to that, but because King Curtis smoked, I decided I was going to join him. And so wouldn’t you know I get busted. I had just stopped and after that I did 19 years no cigarettes. That one picture stopped me for 19 years [laughs].

BW: Did the picture on the album feel like an honor too? Did it feel like something special?

JJ: Right. They really appreciated my work. I felt that. I felt honored. I felt grateful. I felt all those good things. And people have even recognized me from that album.

BW: Well, the great irony of that picture is that it was taken in January 1969. It’s taken during the Aretha sessions that Wexler took your name off of. So they’re actually photographic evidence that you played on those dates.

JJ: Wow. Well that’s what they do. But there’s the truth right there.

BW: It’s another part of how strange a job session work is. Even when you’re getting your name on the record, or have your picture on the cover, you’re not getting royalties from it. And then they just decide one day to not call you anymore. It’s a weird gig.

JJ: It was weird, but at the time I didn’t think about it. I said, “Well, okay. I’ll make more records.” I’m not going to sweat it. It was years later when I found out that I had been left off the record. I was shocked at first, but I thought, “oh well.” I had other things to do.

BW: As a session musician, did that feel like it was par for the course? Like were you used to being mistreated by the record companies?

JJ: Well, not used to. It was something I didn’t like. Both Duane and I didn’t like that. We would talk about it. After our last session in Muscle Shoals, we were talking at the airport. He said, “What you going to do, brother?” I said, “I’m going to go home and just do jingles and commercials and not do any more of these jive-ass record sessions.” He said, “I want to go home and start a band with my brother.” That was it. We were both feeling beat up and disrespected. This is 1969, and I’d only been in the business for four years.

BW: That's a whirlwind, going from starting out, to recording with Aretha, to now having as much work as you wanted.

JJ: Yeah, as much as I wanted, as much as I could do. One time, I remember, I somehow forgot that I had a date and slept through it. Those things happen. But that’s also how I got my first gig with Wilson Pickett. Somebody didn’t show up at 10 o'clock in the morning to do a session and Arif [Mardin] called me. He said, “Can you come down here? This bass player didn't show up.” I said, “Sure.” I got there about 11:30am. There was like 20 musicians waiting. They had already rehearsed their parts and they needed someone to play the bass part, which was already written out. So I ran it down and saw there was a little space where I could [improvise] something. And I did my thing. The song was called “Deborah” and we did it in January [1968] because it had to be ready for the San Remo festival in Italy. Arif told me that they were going to send it out to Italy the next day because it needed to be released the following week. So this had to be done.

BW: And that’s how you made a name for yourself, one guy overslept and that was your foot in the door?

JJ: I had done a few sessions before that. You build up your name over a period of years. There is no overnight success. Your connections have been developed and nurtured over time.

BW: You mentioned reading charts for that Wilson Pickett session. For the Aretha sessions, were they mostly head arrangements that you came up with in the studio or were their charts written out?

JJ: Well for Aretha’s sessions, Arif Mardin, the arranger, wrote out charts. We always had charts. Normally sessions are charted out. Sometimes it’s head arrangements, sometimes someone will just sing the part in your ear.  

BW: And those are just chord charts?

JJ: Chord charts, yeah. Sometimes there were indications of a pickup here or there. But mostly they were just charting out verse, chorus, bridge, etc.

BW: So you know where you’re going.

JJ: So you know how much time you have for each section.

BW: And to let you know when you can throw in those fills and improvisations.

JJ: Right. After a while, people stopped writing charts for me. They just said, “Go ahead and play.” I take it either way. I liked playing on the jingles, that’s what I was telling Duane, because everything is written out. Just play the part, get paid, and get a royalty check later on. I liked that! [laughs]

BW: And you would residuals for jingles but not for regular sessions, right? You’d get that flat $120 fee for the regular session gigs and that’s it.

JJ: Yeah. That’s it. Bye. See ya.

BW: You mentioned that B.B. King actually gave you songwriting credit, which I assume translated into royalties.

JJ: Oh yeah, until this day.

BW: Was he the only one to ever do that?

JJ: He was the only one. That’s how rare it was. I mean a lot of other cats got it, but I was never a socializer. You know, you hang out and things like that can happen. But in this case, it was strictly musician-to-musician. He appreciated my work and that's how he decided to reward me. He rewarded all of us. We all got a piece of “You’re Mean” [the B-side to “The Thrill is Gone” (1969)] and I got credit for “So Excited” too.

BW: What a show of solidarity and support for the musicians! 

JJ: Really. I mean he was very grateful because he knew that something special was happening. I knew it was a B.B King session and so I was looking forward to playing with the great blues master, but I didn’t know what it was going to be like. I just show up and there were no charts [laughs]. That was the kind of session you were talking about. Yeah, okay. Major production company, no charts. B.B. had a legal pad for lyrics. But we knew it was the blues. We didn’t need charts for the blues. No matter what color, what flavor, what tempo, what style, we knew it was going to be the blues, so no charts were necessary. We’d figure it out on the way. When he started singing, playing the guitar, patting his foot, we went from there. That was it. That was the chart. B.B. was the chart. Just watch B.B., read B.B., play along. That’s the chart [laughs]. That’s what I did. And the other guys would follow me. Whatever I did, they would follow me. But you know we were all listening to B.B. Being the bass, you set the foundation, you set the groove. So I watched B.B., watched his foot, heard the lyrics, and I started playing. I made up something and it sounded good. We all fell in and that’s how we did it. Every song the same way.

BW: In 1971, you go on tour with King Curtis and Aretha. Was that awkward, given how things ended with Wexler?

JJ: King Curtis called me to do Aretha’s live show. I didn’t really know about what had happened with Jerry until years later. Even if I did, I might have just let it go. I don’t even remember seeing him at the Filmore, come to think about it. But I had played in King Curtis’s band, so it was a natural thing for it to happen, although he knew I didn’t want to go on the road. But he just told me he needed me to be there, and I said, “Cool, I'll do it.” And I'm glad I did. That was 50 years ago, but it was life changing. That was the last time I ever saw him. He died on the 13th of August in 1971.

BW: And that's right after he got the Grammy for “Games People Play,” in 1970, right? So he was getting even more recognition.

JJ: He was moving up. He was getting it.  

BW: So what was that tour like? I know you said that touring was not really what you wanted to be doing at that time…

JJ: Well, with Aretha anything was possible. I couldn’t wait to play with Aretha live. That was something. I mean I love playing live. The reason I didn’t take tour gigs was because after my first tour with King Curtis [in 1967], I came back in town and for a couple of years people thought I was still on the road and they wouldn’t call me for sessions [laughs]. So I learned from that first time not to tell people that I was going on the road, so I kind of snuck out of town for that Aretha tour. And we had breaks between February and July, so I was working [on sessions] during those breaks.

BW: Listening to the surviving recordings, to those versions of “Respect” or that great video from the Montreux Jazz Festival… Was the appeal that you wanted to play with Aretha and you knew that was going to be a great band?

JJ: I didn’t want to go, because I knew if I left, I’d be losing my spot. So it was really the way King Curtis asked me. He said he needed me. I suggested other people to call. He said, “No.” So I said, “Okay, I’ll go. I’m in.” And that was it. We never really talked about it. That was probably the most we ever talked in our lives, is when he called me that time. We just had this relationship that was just pure music. There was something special between us that I can’t really describe. It was the chemistry that we had. I brought the best out of him; he brought the best out of me. I understood that we had something special, and we didn’t have to talk about it. And I had the same thing with Aretha. I knew that we had something special and that we didn’t have to talk about it. Same thing with [Bernard] Purdie and [Cornell] Dupree. I had never met Billy [Preston] but I knew he could play his ass off. I wanted to play with him too. So I knew that’d be interesting. So Aretha, King Curtis, me, and Dupree, that was it! I was in heaven. So I’m glad I took the job. We had a great time every night, but it was a lot of pressure. But you rise to the occasion, and the band gets better. Every show got better. The shows in Montreux were killer. The last night at the Filmore was a killer. The first night was a train wreck, but we got through it [laughs]. I heard a version of “Respect” we did at the Filmore on Saturday night and, oh my gosh, we were tearing it up!

BW: And that version is so fast! 

JJ: I know! And we did it every night like that. She wanted it at that tempo, and we gave it to her.

BW: Was that exhausting, having to do a full set with Curtis and then a full set with Aretha?

JJ: Yeah and a set before that with the Memphis Horns too. I mean I was used to it. I came up playing long gigs. Endurance is something you build over a long period of time. And don’t forget I had been used to playing upright and the electric bass is not as demanding physically, which was probably what also drew me to the instrument in the beginning. It’s so easy but then it again it was so hard. I had to develop the touch.

BW: The frets are closer together, so it’s less physically challenging. But maybe making it musical was more of a challenge?

JJ: That was a big challenge, making it musical. Getting a sound that I could live with. At first, I thought the sound was terrible. But I like my sound now.  

BW: By the time you went on tour with her, you were playing off fully written out charts now, but they also expected you to contribute some of yourself to it as well?

JJ: That's why they call me. King Curtis expected me to do that, that’s why he called me. Anybody can read a chart. And those charts were well written out, so anybody could read it. So you see where you can play something differently. You see it and you hear it. You might play it once the way it’s written and then decide to play it your way. It changes, its fluid. But that’s what they expect. The chart is just a guide, it’s a roadmap.  

BW: Why were those early shows with Aretha were a train wreck?

JJ:  If I have trouble playing a song, it destroys the whole night for me. I’ve learned to get it out of my head and go on to the next song. I have to be very vigilant. But I think I had an issue on playing “Call Me” and then we all couldn’t get together on “Love the One You’re With.” She had brought that into Friday night rehearsal and said, “We’re going to play this tune tonight.” We had a train wreck on that one. She wanted us to try it and we tried it [laughs]. But by the time we got to the third night we had it together. Years later, I heard the recordings and I thought, “Hey, that’s pretty good!”

BW: So, given how long your career was, are you sick of getting asked about the 1960s at this point? Are these stories that you really hold onto? Or, like you said earlier, do you mainly remember each of these sessions as just another gig?  

JJ: Well, right now, it seems like my past is my future. So, I’ve learned to embrace it [laughs]. I might have, maybe, seven records that I played on in my possession. I don’t really hold onto the past. But I decided to write an autobiography in 2016 and so I’ve been going back. It took me twenty years to feel comfortable putting it out. Once I get that out, I’ll be relieved. I got to get it out of my head so I can go on with my life.

BW: Well, I definitely look forward to reading it. Thanks so much for talking with me, and I wish you the best of luck with the book and the new music you’re working on!

JJ: You’re welcome. Good luck with your book and everything else.   

Jerry Jemmott’s Website: https://www.jerryjemmott.com/